


the earrings (and the relationship they ended)

by caramelcaramelcaramel



Series: spideychelle week 2020 babey [6]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cheating, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Enemies to Lovers, Exes, Exes to Lovers, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Long-Term Relationship(s), Makeup Sex, Misunderstandings, No Smut, No cheating, One Shot, Spideychelle, Spideychelle Week 2020, one bed, one bed trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24834919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelcaramelcaramel/pseuds/caramelcaramelcaramel
Summary: MJ found another woman's earrings in Peter's couch cushions a year ago, and left without another word. Cut off everyone and left.Now, she's run into him in small town Italy.And they accidentally booked the same room, with one bed.goherefor all the ways to keep up with me, get early access to works, or commission me!
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: spideychelle week 2020 babey [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1780090
Comments: 14
Kudos: 80
Collections: Spideychelle Week 2020





	the earrings (and the relationship they ended)

MJ got off the bus, and breathed in the air. It had that salty smell to ocean towns often did.

After law school, she’d landed a good job, with good benefits. Within six months, she was one of the best lawyers at her firm.

So she decided to treat herself to a little vacation. One week, just herself.

Pulling her luggage along, over the cobbled stone walkway into the hotel, MJ admired the colourful architecture around her.

Taking one last, deep breath of fresh, ocean air, she headed into the hotel.

She’d picked Vernazza, Italy, for a number of reasons. First, it was a small town. Less touristy than places like Venice. More community. Second, it was coastal. Her hotel had a pool in the back, and the ocean out front. It was beautiful. Second, it was relatively unknown. She didn’t know anybody who’d been to Vernazza, and the rich lawyer coworkers had been everywhere under the sun.

It was the perfect place to get away from everything.

Or so she thought.

Because when MJ walked into the hotel, Peter Parker was standing at the front desk, checking in.

Old anger flooded through her veins. Things hadn’t ended well, and she’d hoped she’d never see him again.

She stood behind him, waiting for Peter to finish and step aside. When the receptionist waved her up, and Peter was still standing there, her stomach sank. Something was wrong, and she knew she wasn’t going to like it.

“Miss Jones, is it?”

MJ nodded.

“There’s been a bit of a mix-up. We have one room left, and you’re both booked for it.”

MJ snorted. It was _funny_. Because, what, was she living in a fanfiction? Would her parents sell her to One Direction next?

“That’s not possible,” MJ said, still in denial, “I booked this room months ago.”

“Actually,” the receptionist said, “you called and book June 14th, at 9am precisely-”

“Yeah, I stayed up until two to make that reservation,” MJ interrupted.

The receptionist took a breath. “Well, so did Mr. Parker here. You booked the same room, at the same time, with two different receptionists. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

MJ crossed her arms. “Well, I’m certainly not leaving.”

“That’s okay,” Peter said, “I can find another hotel.”

The receptionist shook her head. “There’s two other hotels here, and they’re all booked up. The Infiorata festival is this weekend. People from surrounding towns come in.”

MJ glared at Peter. “I’m not leaving.”

Peter sighed. “Alright. May I have a room key?”

“Me too,” MJ added.

The receptionist raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing the tension between the two, but gave them each a key.

MJ shot Peter a dirty look as she crossed towards the elevator.

Peter looked at the receptionist. “Sorry about all this.”

“Our fault entirely. Um, tell your roommate that the minibar is on us. As compensation for the mix-up.”

Peter nodded. “Thanks.”

He joined MJ at the elevator.

“Let me be clear,” she said, before he could get a word in, “I do not plan on talking to you, interacting with you, nothing. I only really intend to use the room as a place to sleep.”

The elevator dinged, and they both got in.

“MJ, I still think that if you heard me out-”

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Okay.”

The elevator was slow, and the tension was thick between them. MJ scoffed to herself.

“It’s like the universe hates me.”

Peter didn’t respond. Nothing good could come of that, anyways.

The doors opened, and MJ stepped out first, as if getting to the room faster than Peter would save her from having to see him.

Peter blinked, and then followed.

Peter looked at her, at the situation, and saw hope, a shot at redemption.

A chance to explain himself, to win the love of his life back.

MJ just saw betrayal in its worst form.

When he arrived in the room, MJ had already claimed her side of the bed, and was halfway through unpacking.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “I’m gonna unpack, change, and then head down to the water.”

He didn’t respond.

MJ did as she promised. Unpacked. Changed into clean clothes. Grabbed a book and a beach towel, and headed down to the water.

Peter sat in the hotel room, and called Ned.

“Hey,” Ned answered, after the first ring, “did you get to Vernazza okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter answered, “I’m just…in a bit of a situation.”

“Oh, god, I told you about the Italian mafia. How much is ransom-”

“No, no mafia, Ned.” Peter cleared his throat. “Actually, um, MJ’s here.”

There was a pause. “What?”

“Actually, um, we accidentally booked the same room. And there’s not a single free room in the whole town.”

Ned laughed. “Bro, this is perfect! You can explain that the earrings were a gift from me to Betty and get back together and live happily ever after.”

There was a lump developing in Peter’s throat. “I don’t- she’s made it pretty clear that she doesn’t want to hear anything from me.”

“Are you sure?”

“She said, and I quote, ‘I do not plan on talking to you, interacting with you, nothing,’ so I think it’s fair to assume I’m not gonna get a chance to explain myself.”

Ned sighed. “Peter, you just need to make her listen to you.”

“This is MJ we’re talking about. She’s not gonna hear it.”

“You’re not gonna fight for the girl you were going to propose to?”

Peter turned that thought over in his head. It brought up old feelings, ones he’d buried down deep. Because MJ leaving had hurt like hell, and he almost couldn’t bear it.

“Peter.”

“Just drop it,” Peter snapped, and immediately regretted it. “Sorry. I’m sorry, that was-”

“It’s okay.”

Peter relaxed a little. “Listen, I’m just- I gotta go. Maybe for a walk or something. Find May a spot.” He looked at his suitcase, knowing he’d have to unpack, and pull out that box and unwrap it and part with the contents this week. A lump formed in his throat.

“Okay,” Ned said. “Take care.”

“Yeah, you too, buddy.”

Peter hung up, and looked at the suitcase again. And then he laid down on the bed, at first on his back, and then he curled onto his side.

He wondered what May would say. Probably just the right thing to make him feel better.

Meanwhile, MJ was staring at the pages of her book, not absorbing a single word.

How fucking terrible was her luck? She’d spent a year desperately trying to heal. Because she’d thought Peter was it, she thought she was done, she thought that was it and they’d get married and live happily ever after.

And then she saw another woman’s earrings in their couch cushions and her world shattered.

She didn’t know who he was anymore.

So she ran. She ran then, and she was running now.

It was hard to face the ex who broke your heart, betrayed you in a way he promised he never would, who you still loved despite it all.

MJ didn’t know if she would ever be able to unlove him. And it sucked.

Part of her didn’t want to believe he’d cheated on her. That it was all some big misunderstanding. But she was smarter than that. And she couldn’t stand the idea of being some dumbass with a cheating asshole for a husband.

She was gripping the book too hard, putting enough pressure on the spine she was worried about it splitting.

She sighed, giving up on reading, closed the book and set it down.

And decided to go for a walk through town instead.

She walked around for a while, taking in the scenery, went for dinner by herself, finally actually making progress while she ate some fish and drank some wine.

It began to feel like an actual vacation. She released her shoulders and her jaw, she breathed normally, and you know what? She’d lived with Peter for two years, she could handle one week.

She headed back to the hotel, just as the sun was setting, ready to just shower and go to bed.

When she arrived, Peter was already in bed, curled up on his side, a wall of pillows against his back, separating the bed in half.

She grabbed a change of clothes and went to the bathroom to shower.

It was weird. Usually, when MJ was in the shower, she’d be singing, knowing Peter was laying on the bed in their room, listening to her.

There was a pang of sadness in her chest, knowing she’d lost that. Knowing she’d maybe never had that.

The man in that room wasn’t who she thought she was. She had to remind herself of that.

That thought snuck back in, one she pushed away at least once a week. Why wasn’t she enough?

She sat down on the floor of the shower, nose-tingling. Why was she never enough? Was there something unloveable about her? Was it her small frame, or wild curls, or bold personality?

Was it something intangible, something that screamed, _Not this one, guys!_

Tears spilled down her cheeks.

She hated this feeling, more than anything. Crushing emptiness.

MJ let herself cry for a few minutes, and then picked herself up and pulled herself together. She wrapped up the shower and got out, drying off, getting dressed, brushing her teeth, just overall getting ready for bed.

She left the bedroom, and saw Peter still curled up.

He was awake. She could tell. Which meant he probably heard her cry in the shower, thanks to that sweet, sweet super-hearing.

She couldn’t bring herself to care. She slid into bed, pulling the sheets up around herself.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said softly.

“Shut up,” MJ responded.

Her voice was still tearful, and it broke Peter’s heart.

God, he’d fucked up.

Neither of them slept much, each pretending the other was asleep.

When MJ finally fell asleep, just before the sun came up, Peter turned over, facing her. She’d rolled over in her sleep, so if he adjusted the blankets and pillows, he could see her face.

He hadn’t seen her sleeping peacefully like this in so long.

He reached over, gently pushing a curl out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. Her eyebrows knit together, and she made a soft, sleepy noise, and then her face relaxed again.

There was a sharp pang in Peter’s chest, and he felt pressure building behind his nose and eyes. He turned over, trying to think of literally anything else – hot Cheetos, Obama, _Incredibles 2_ – so he didn’t have to think about the way his heart was breaking all over again.

It didn’t work. Tears spilled over, and dampened his pillow.

\---

MJ was up bright and early, ready to explore the town, maybe do some shopping. She was careful to be quiet, even though she was pretty sure Peter was awake.

She left the hotel, and wandered around the town for a while. She got breakfast at a café, and sat there reading an article on her laptop.

When she wasn’t around Peter, and therefore wasn’t confronted by how many emotions she had surrounding him, this was actually a really nice vacation.

So she sat in a café, working through her list of interesting articles to read. And relaxed.

Peter, on the other hand, was now sitting on the floor of the hotel, suitcase open in front of him. He’d unpacked his clothes and toiletries, so all that was left was a cardboard box. It was duct taped shut, with a fragile stamp on it. He knew it was packed with bubble wrap and newspaper, and behind all of that was a small, wooden box, with May’s name engraved on it.

He wasn’t ready.

But he was here, and he had specific instructions from the will, so he had to.

He wiped tears away, and carefully unpacked the box.

May’s urn was really quite beautiful. It was a deep brown wood, with gold embellishments. It was a shame it’d be trash by the end of the day.

To be fair, this was only half of May’s ashes. The other half was currently sitting in Peter’s apartment, on his dresser.

Peter put the box in his backpack, and headed out for the day.

He started walking. He didn’t know where to spread her ashes, just that he needed to head out of the town to do so.

He stopped to get breakfast, walking into a café, pretending he didn’t see MJ sitting at one of the tables. He ordered a coffee and a roll with jam, and headed out again.

MJ spotted him as he was leaving, and tensed, but Peter didn’t notice. He was too caught up in his task for the day.

Their hotel wasn’t too far from the edge of town, so it didn’t take him long to walk the few blocks and enter the countryside, drinking his coffee and trying not to think too hard about parting ways with May’s ashes.

There was a cemetery, just outside town. He knew May’s parents were buried there. But he’d read the will.

_“I’ve never liked cemeteries. I don’t like the idea of my final resting place being amongst a whole bunch of other dead people. I’d like to go back to Italy one last time, and have my ashes scattered anywhere but a cemetery._

_“Peter, I know it’s asking a lot of you, but I hope you take the opportunity to take a vacation for once. You’ve earned it, honey.”_

When MJ left, Peter was heartbroken. Shortly after, when May was diagnosed with brain cancer and given six months to live, Peter was devastated. He was lucky to get four extra months with her, and told her it was okay to let go when the pain became too much.

And she did, through a medically assisted suicide.

He was right there, holding her hand, as she passed.

And he’d felt broken ever since.

He was well and truly lost. He didn’t know how to function without her. He didn’t know who he was without his family. He didn’t have May, or Ben, or his parents, or Tony, or MJ. He had Ned, and sometimes Pepper and Morgan, but that was it. And as much as he loved them, it wasn’t enough right now.

And now, he was in the middle of the Italian countryside, and he figured now was the time.

How do you even spread ashes?

Peter sat down in the grass, and pulled the urn out of his backpack.

“I don’t wanna do this,” he whispered to himself, “I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

If this were a movie, maybe the spirit of May would come up behind him, put a hand on his shoulder, be with him as he went through this.

But it wasn’t. Peter was alone.

And it was so quiet.

He unlocked the lid, and opened it.

It was weird, looking at the ashes of your recently deceased mother figure.

“I love you,” he said, and sobbed. “I miss you so much.”

He tipped the box over, and the ash spilled out over the grass and soil.

“Say hi to Ben for me.”

The breeze picked up, and the ashes moved across the ground with the wind.

Peter stayed there, crying for a while. Even though he knew he had the rest of May’s ashes at home, there was something depressing about watching her ashes blow away in the wind.

When he’d eventually cried out all his tears, he stood up, swinging his backpack back into his shoulders, and started the trek back into town.

Now, MJ had gone back to the hotel room, because it had started to rain, and she didn’t care if Peter was there at the moment, to be honest.

She didn’t make it back to the hotel room before she was drenched, however, water dripping from saturated curls, mascara gathering under her eyes. She got into the hotel room, expecting to see Peter, but he wasn’t there. She smiled to herself, and went about showering and drying off, and changing into warmer clothes.

While she was in the bathroom, Peter got in, taking off the top layer of soaked clothing, and flopping back on the bed. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, from the trek and all the crying.

MJ was still in the shower, singing to herself. Peter closed his eyes and listened.

And for a moment, everything felt okay. He felt a year younger. He didn’t feel so alone. His chest felt warm instead of painfully empty.

And then the water shut off.

A few minutes later, MJ emerged, drying off her hair with a towel, wearing a baggy t-shirt and shorts.

“Oh.”

Peter didn’t need to look at her to know her disappointed _oh_ was because of him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No, it’s fine.” MJ crossed to her side of the room, digging through her bag for lotion. “Sorry about that.”

He sat there, staring kind of blankly at the wall. The emptiness had taken over again. He was back to reality.

MJ ignored it, rubbing lotion over her legs and arms, and then getting up and going back to the bathroom to finish drying her hair.

Peter sat at the foot of the bed, staring at the piece of art on the wall.

A Café Reilley was pictured, with an older couple and their little kid smiling at the camera. It was an artistic piece, but they were recognizable.

May’s maiden name was Reilley.

It was her and her parents.

And Peter was crying all over again, staring at the piece and wondering why he had to lose her, especially when he needed her so badly.

MJ came out of the bathroom, hair now dry enough to deal with, and stopped cold when she realized Peter was crying.

And she didn’t know how to deal with it.

Because she loved him, she really did. And it hurt her to see him crying.

But she was so angry that part of her felt good about seeing him cry. Because fuck, she’d bawled her eyes out when everything had gone down. She still did sometimes. She’d probably shed her weight in tears five times over because of Peter. And seeing him hurt made a petty part of her sing.

And she felt awful for that.

“They were earrings for Betty,” Peter said suddenly. “From Ned. He came over, and showed them to me, and we kind of forgot about them and lost them in the cushions.”

The anger roared in MJ’s stomach, and she laughed, bitterly and humourlessly.

“Okay.”

He looked up at her, hurt. “What?”

“No, sure, yeah. Whatever.”

And now Peter was pissed. And he didn’t get angry often, and he didn’t even think he really was angry, but anger felt better now.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

MJ rolled her eyes.

“No, _Michelle_ , I have no reason to lie to you. I know this is over. It’s been over for a year. I’m aware of that. But holy fuck, you never heard me out. You blocked Ned and Betty. You don’t want to hear the truth. You don’t want me to not be a cheater. What the fuck is that about?”

MJ frowned at him. “I didn’t need to hear you out! You had another woman’s earrings in your couch!”

“Yeah, we’ve been over this,” Peter snapped. “Betty’s, from Ned. She loved them, by the way. It really helped her get through losing you as a friend.”

“I didn’t want to be reminded of you all the time!”

“Why is that? Why can’t you talk to me about it?”

“It’s over, Peter, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“No, there is! You’ve accused me of cheating on you for a year and you never listened to me! I never would’ve cheated on you, MJ, you were my whole world. And then you left and May had brain cancer and died and I was all alone.” Peter’s voice broke, and he looked away. “You left.”

MJ shook her head. “Don’t fucking manipulate me.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t make up a fucking sob story because you want me to believe you!”

It was Peter’s turn to laugh bitterly. He grabbed his backpack and unzipped it, hard enough he heard threads snap, and pulled out the now-empty urn.

MJ froze. Oh, god, she’d been such a dick.

“How’s that, huh? Does my sob story check out now?”

“Can you blame me?” MJ asked. “I had reason to believe-”

“You didn’t trust me! We’d been together for a decade and talked about marriage and lived together, and you didn’t fucking trust me.”

Tears welled in MJ’s eyes. She’d never really thought about it that way before. She’d connected two dots, and left, disregarding any other clues in the vicinity. “Peter…”

He grabbed his room key and left the room, door slamming behind him.

MJ sat down on the bed, squeezing her eyes shut.

 _Shit_.

She pulled out her phone and searched through blocked contacts, and unblocked Ned and Betty’s numbers.

And then dialled Betty’s number.

It took three rings, but Betty finally picked up.

“MJ?”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, whoa, what’s happening?” she asked.

“I shouldn’t have cut you off,” MJ blurted, “I just- I saw the earrings and I assumed and I left because it-I didn’t wanna be reminded of him, and I’m sorry, because he just told me the earrings were yours and Ned had left them, and I-”

“MJ,” Betty said.

She shut up.

“Why are you calling?”

MJ took a deep, shaky breath. “Were the earrings yours?”

“Yes, MJ, they were mine.”

_Shit, shit, shit._

“I fucked up.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know if I can fix it. With you or Ned, or with Peter. God.”

“Well, I think you at least gotta buy a round of shots when you’re back in town. That’s all it’ll take to win Ned and I back over. As for Peter, I think you need to talk to him.”

MJ nodded, before remembering she couldn’t see her. “Right.”

“I missed you, MJ.”

MJ sniffled. “I missed you too.”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

Peter walked through the streets in the rain, and eventually went to a restaurant and sat down for dinner. MJ stayed in the hotel, rehearsing speeches in the bathroom mirror, trying to find the right words to say to Peter.

Evening turned to nighttime, and MJ gave up on the speech. Peter wasn’t back yet, anyways. So she went to bed, slipping under the covers and curling into the fetal position.

She’d lost him over an assumption. Over an _incorrect_ assumption. She’d thrown away ten years with him, and the rest of her life.

Because of a pair of earrings.

She was officially the worst.

And honestly, what did that say about her as a lawyer? If she was the judge, she’d condemned him, despite reasonable doubt, despite innocent until proven guilty. She’d made a drastic, emotional decision, and ruined the best thing that ever happened to her.

Peter was still at the restaurant, drinking his someteenth beer and wishing he could get past tipsy.

Stupid super metabolism.

Once he realized he’d been there for two hours too long for it to be reasonable, he paid his tab, and walked back to the hotel, too numb to care about the rain.

When he got in, MJ was buried under the covers, curled up, making herself as small as she could be.

He went into the bathroom, and took a shower, and changed into pajamas.

MJ was still curled up in the same position as before, still as ever.

Peter was just thankful she wasn’t going to try to talk to him. He couldn’t handle that right now.

He slid into bed, foregoing the pillow barricade, and laid on his back.

It had been such a fucked up day, and he was so goddamn exhausted, and he just wanted to go to sleep.

But he knew MJ was awake. He could hear her heartbeat, and her breathing, and he just knew. They hadn’t slowed enough.

So he couldn’t relax. Because here he was, sharing a bed with his ex, who now knew his aunt had died and he hadn’t cheated on her, and he didn’t know where they stood.

He didn’t know if he could sleep next to her.

He shifted, toying with the idea of just…sleeping on the floor. But before he could, MJ whipped over, lightning-fast, and put a hand on his chest, stopping him from sitting up.

Peter looked up at her. She was propped up on her elbows, looking him dead in the eye, lips slightly parted.

And then she was kissing him. And it was overwhelming. He hadn’t kissed her in a year. He hadn’t felt like this in a year.

They didn’t stop kissing, until MJ’s hands were tugging at the hem of his shirt, and they broke away to undress.

They were all over each other, until the early hours of the morning, lips rarely unlocked, not a single word said.

And they fell asleep, curled up together, just like old times.

In the morning, MJ slipped out early.

She walked along the beach for a while, trying to figure out what the hell had happened.

MJ loved Peter, she knew that. And last night was the best she’d felt in a long time.

So she had to make things right, didn’t she?

She went back to the hotel room, only to find Peter packing.

“You’re leaving?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I, um, only came to spread May’s ashes, and I don’t wanna be in your way.”

She didn’t know what to say. So she said the first thing that she could think of.

“Marry me.”

Peter blinked, and looked up at her. “What?”

“I talked to Betty. And she confirmed what you told me. And I realized exactly how fucking terrible I was. I threw away ten years of us on a dumb suspicion, and I was too stupid to listen to the truth, but I’m not now, and I miss you, and I love you, and I want to marry you.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. You were kind of terrible.”

That wasn’t the response MJ was expecting.

“You broke my heart, Michelle.” She flinched on Michelle. He never called her Michelle, not when he was happy, at least. “And I had to go through some of the worst shit of my life alone. I spread May’s ashes _alone_.”

There was a thick silence between them. “I’m sorry.”

Peter dropped the bundle of shirts he was about to pack, and crossed to her, kissing her hard. And then softened, and they held each other tight.

Peter broke the kiss. “I’m trusting you, MJ. Don’t ever do that again.”

MJ looked at him. “Marry me.”

With a smile, he agreed.

He stayed the rest of the week. And when they got home, they got married.


End file.
